


The Ten, the Ace and the Queen of Hearts

by WashedAwayCloud (HowlingSentinel)



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Doctor on Doctor Sex (maybe), F/M, M/M, Multi, Regeneration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-21
Updated: 2012-10-19
Packaged: 2017-11-14 17:08:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/517571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HowlingSentinel/pseuds/WashedAwayCloud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU of the Journey's End.<br/>When the Doctor regenerates what changes for Rose and Tentoo?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jls589 on livejournal](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=jls589+on+livejournal).



> Prompt from over at [ doctor-rose fix](http://doctor-rose-fix.livejournal.com/289688.html?view=7491992#t7491992)
> 
> For those of you watching my other stories - I've got piles of notes for them. It's happening - I promise.

It happened again, as he closed the doors, one lone shot. Truth be told it was probably supposed to be this way. At least, he hoped it was. Rose was back, Jack, Sarah-Jane, Martha, Mickey, Donna, the damnable twin and even Jackie. He had been fairly certain that the daleks had too much going on with the Crucible exploding, had been certain the TARDIS shield was still up.

 

_'Rassilon, this always has to be painful, doesn't it?'_ Cheeky to the last it seemed, and apparently projecting too, if the stereo turning of the new twins was anything to go by.

 

“Shit.” New Ten muttered and grabbed Donna.

 

“You were hit – _again._ ” The reproving look and worry etched in her features is doing nothing for his resolve to not-fucking-die-again. _'Ohh tingles. Are tingles good? Probably not.'_

 

“Yes, I had noticed that.” Rude and not ginger, that was him, at least, it was for the moment.

 

“Doctor?” Rose had zeroed in on the movements of the ginger and the not-quite-him Ten. Her voice was a balm, a tiny ray of hope that he could stave it off again. She loved this body more than the last, who knew what the next would be.

 

“ 'm fine, Rose.” The words are grunted and he closes his eyes against the look he knows will cross her face. Sadness tinges the air, sharp from the not-quite-him; devastating with a touch of helplessness from Donna; but Rose. Sweet, determined Rose tastes of despair and resolve.

 

“You aren't.” Two words bitten as she comes forward. Pete's Torchwood seem's to have given her new depth. Not that she hadn't had depth before. God why was he thinking about so many things right now? Everything hurt. His left leg was tingly, secondary lungs kicking in when the first started to labor.

 

' _It hurts. Chest is to tight. Need to sleep. Healing coma or too much damage? Rose...I don't want to leave yet.'_

 

“We need to get him to the Zero Room -”

 

“No, the infirmary.”

 

“Donna the infirmary will explode if he hits any of that equipment-”

 

“Who says he's going to regenerate? He could have just been hit with shrapnel.” The words are hurried and desperate; his best friend is grasping at straws to save this incarnation and he loves her for it.

 

“No blood. Not shrapnel.” Rose's voice is strained and her hands are on him, checking with a quick ease that distresses him.

 

“-ose.” The word is half cut off in a hiss when a muscle spasm seizes him. This is happening faster than he'd like.

 

“Will the zero room help him?” He chances opening his eyes. ' _When did I get on my back? The others are strangely quiet...'_

 

His pink and yellow girl is talking to not-quite-him, face closed, tears streaming and he wants to brush them away. She knows this isn't the end. He can already feel the arton energy marshaling. His skin is tight, achey and feels vaguely like it's being pulled or burnt. Perhaps both at the same time.

 

“Yes. No one will detect the massive outlet of Arton energy like last time.”

 

“We need to get the others home.”

 

The remark turns his attention to Jack, who's eyes are watching while his mouth is distracting. Mickey too, body angled toward him, talking rapidly to Jackie who he keeps from turning. Martha is torn – knows he's being taken care of, wants to be doing it herself. Sarah-Jane, oh his Sarah-Jane, she's resolute in not watching him, talking to k-9 and Mr. Smith.

 

“Not like I can't drive the TARDIS, girlie.”

 

“Who're you calling girlie?!”

 

“OI! Spaceman two point oh, pink and yellow; get original spaceman up and to safety. We'll deal with the other's later.” Doctor Donna is back, and the Doctor is proud of his space sister. Someone had to get a handle on things.

 

His Rose and the-not-quite-him have him up in two shakes and half drag half carry him out of the console room. The TARDIS is trilling in his head, Rose is half talking to him in reassurance it's only a little farther and half snapping at not-quite-him and _crackers_ is this starting to hurt. He had so much he wanted to do, with Donna, with Rose! He just got her back, this isn't what was supposed to happen.

 

The zero room had changed since he last had to use it. Organic like the rest of the ship, instead of white and clinical. He loved the coral, coral was good. Was the room a bit smaller than last time? No matter. This would be better. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Rose would stay. He needed her to stay.

 

“Rose.” He was whimpering. God was he the Oncoming Storm or puppy dog? This is embarrassing.

 

“Doctor, it's ok -”

 

“Don't want to go.”

 

“You've got to or you'll die.” Saline, is she crying? No, no, no! He didn't want her to cry.

 

“You said -”

 

“Don't care what I said. I want you alive, Doctor!” Not him has let him go, he sags against Rose, and she bears him to the floor, fingers desperate through the multiple layers. Oh, his left heart is doing a bit of a jig...that isn't good. _Hurts_ , makes his muscles twitch in agitation.

 

“I ain't leavin' ya. So change your face and come back to me.” The tears hit his face and he looks up at his pink and yellow girl.

 

“How...long?” God when did his teeth start to hurt? That hasn't ever happened before.

 

“Forever, you git! Now CHANGE!” She's shrieking, frightened, worried and he sags before pushing away from her. The floor is not comfortable, levitating would probably be a good idea if he could think straight enough.

 

“Not me. Get her back.”

 

The Doctor doesn't get a chance to make sure his meta-crisis obeys because the world explodes in gold. He's thinking of his pink and yellow human, his meta-crisis, Donna, Jackie – all of them; and then it's over. He's burning, dying, rejuvenating and healing. It is pain, promise, and hope. He can feel his hair change, the way his face is morphing, his lungs are working again – both sets! The arrhythmia is being corrected. His skin doesn't burn like it was just seared anymore. Bits keep changing and for a split second he is unconscious as his mind flips around a little bit. Then the Doctor is back and his jacket feels loose; trousers too long by an inch or so, hair all floppy.

 

“Doctor?” a voice...who?

 

“Rose!” He crows, a silly smile on his new, new, _new_ face.

 

“You turned into a bloody kid.” Ten – he can call him that now, he's Eleven- remarks, eyes critical from Rose's side. He cocks a brow at him...or he would, doesn't feel as right now. Instead he tilts his chin with a bit of attitude and levels a look at the other man.

 

Pushing himself off the floor, Eleven staggers a bit, feels delighted when Rose comes forward and steadies him. Her eyes are wandering over the new face and he's a little worried. What if she doesn't like it?

 

“Good different or bad different?” He echoes the question to her, remembering christmas. The answering smile is watery but bolsters his spirit.

 

“Just different. Same man with new casin', yeah?” Her hand moves from his shoulder to cup his cheek. The need to rest against her hand rears it's head and the niggling reminder that this is bad isn't present – so he does. He looks at Rose, with his new, new, new eyes and finds that this woman is just as lovely as she always was.

 

They've been apart for years and he can see it in her eyes. Old him missed it in the joy of just having her near again. This him seems to be rather emotionally observant this time around. His eye widened a bit with the hope that he hadn't wished himself _domestic_ in a fit of impending death. That would be rather tragic.

 

“You've stopped dying your hair so brightly.” The Doctor winces inwardly, still rude then. Ohhh, maybe he finally got to be ginger!

 

“Honey blonde doesn't scream chav quite as badly as the other did. The eyebrows forever gave it away.” Her tone is light, eyes smiling in that way they did when she was teasing.

 

“Doesn't matter how blonde – you're always lovely” “Beautiful.” He and Ten have spoken in stereo. How novel.

 

Looking over at his past self with a dash of Donna, he finds himself at ease. Prior to the regeneration he felt a little … off. He wasn't pleased that Ten had blown up the crucible, unrepentantly murdered millions of daleks, but it wasn't such a pressure on his mind.

 

“Doctor?”

 

“Hmm?” His eyes, what color are they now, cut to Rose again.

 

“We should go make sure Donna and the other's are all ok. Get Mum and Mick back to the other universe.”

 

Panic seizes him, and his hands find her waist. The Doctor pulls Rose against him in a tight hug, rapid fire pleas for her to stay tumbling from his lips. It seems that his regeneration sickness this time around is going to play havoc on his emotions rather than set them careening across the time stream to crash. That's a mild improvement.

 

“Not leavin' Doctor. Couldn't make me.”

 

“Doctor.” Ten is speaking. His voice is different, same accent, just different. This is going to be weird, or fun. Probably both.

 

“Yes. Donna. Companions, alternate universe to send people back to. Earth should be back where it needs to be by now. Donna is, after all a brilliant ginger me! Well... partially.” He's weak, flopping a little but determined to go do things, get to know this strange pseudo brother, see how Donna was, say good bye to his friends. He just hoped that he didn't pass out before accomplishing it all.

 

The walk from the Zero room was spent half draped over Rose and wincing at the thrilled trills of the TARDIS. She was happy he wasn't dead it seemed and nattering on about coral babies. He'd sort it later. The halls seemed to shudder as they walked, indicating his beloved ship had moved them farther from the console room and was now making their journey shorter. Brilliant his ship – he winces takes a particularly deep breath and sighs arton energy into Rose's hair.

 

“What do I call you, not me-me?” He is so rude. Rose is going to smack him in the future, he can already tell.

 

“...Nine or Ten.” That makes the Doctor jerk a bit and eyes him again.

 

“Nine you say?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“Right. Rosie! Rosie posy pudding pie...God don't ever let me call you that again.”

 

“Not a problem, Doctor.” She's laughing at him. He wants to kiss her, but bumps his cheek against her's instead. They're still walking down golden lit coral corridors that shudder and shimmer. The TARDIS is probably going to lock them out sometime soon and do a bit of redecorating. Still so odd to see her move like this.


	2. Two

The drop offs had been quick, with promises all around that the Doctor, Rose, Donna and Ten would be back before long to see everyone again. Too quick, because now it was just Jackie - the only one left to take home. The Doctors fidgeted with the controls and the TARDIS groaned louder than usual as she navigated the closing cracks between universes.

 

Rose for her part was calm, hugging Jackie and speaking quietly over by the hat rack.

 

“You're stayin' with himself, aren't ya?” Jackie was stating a fact as they hugged, squeezing a bit tighter.

 

“Got to, there are two of them now – I can't leave poor Donna to keep them in line.” she laughed quietly, tears thick in her voice. “You give my love to Pete and Tony –“

 

“Oh Rose. My girl, my little girl. I'm going to miss you.”

 

“I know. I'll miss you too, mum. We've had some times though, yeah? Last New Years, all those fabulous parties?” Ten and Eleven tense and look over when the smell of saline reaches them. It's Jackie, hands on her daughter's face, memorizing it as they say their good byes.

 

“You take care of yourself, girl. Don't let that alien sod run you ragged.”

 

“I won't.” Rose has her hands over her mother's, eyes watering.

 

“Be amazing.” Said in stereo as the ship shudders and bumps to land – a flash of fear is seen on Rose's face and then it is gone.

 

“Stay inside, Rose. Just let me get out of here and then go. Don't look back – I'm so proud of you.”

 

“Mum... I love you, so much.” Another hug and Jackie pries herself from her little girl, shooting a look to the men at the console, both fiddling with levers.

 

“Promise me, again, this last time you're going to take care of her.” Ten does in an instant, all fiery intensity and mild fear of a Tyler slap evident in it. The Doctor just nods – a small smile on his face and a lump in his throat.

 

_Rose is giving up her family for us._

 

_She loves us. Don't get righteous and try to send her away. We need her, she needs us. It was always going to happen like this._ Ten is in his head and isn't -that- going to take some getting used to. Donna is there too, right at the back, warming as she gets nearer to the console room.

 

Jackie slips out and Rose is in the doorway, waving to Pete, waiting until Jackie gets to the truck before turning away. The tears are silent as the door clicks shut and she leans against it.

 

“Let's get out of here.”

 

“Are you -” “Now, Doctor.” “Right.”

 

The TARDIS and her crew of four is shuddering off into the vortex seconds later, the five of them heaving a sigh of relief. For a few seconds it's awkward, Ten and the Doctor standing there looking at one another over the controls, Rose stationed by the door; all of them silent.

 

“God, you'd think someone had died, the way you three go on.” Donna is leaning against a coral strut, eyes darting between the three of them. Her words get Rose to laugh though, it's something.

 

“Where shall we go? Backwards, forwards, we've got the universe and all the time in the world.” The Doctor crows, going with triumph for the time being, twisting a knob at random with that manic smile of his.

 

“I want chips – real, potato based chips!” Rose squeals, looking for a moment like the young girl he picked up some years ago.

 

“Rose, all of time and space, all of it, and you want chips?” Ten is teasing her, the light in his eyes evidence enough of that fact as she turns a glare on him.

 

“Yes, Mr. I'm so Impressive being in two places with two faces. Chips. That universe didn't have potatoes! And you're paying! New, new, new body – new, new, new first date.”

 

The word date draws both the Doctors up short, shooting nervous glances at one another. Domestics, the horror! It is Rose, though and really it was never that bad before, when it was for _her._ Donna, the traitor, is laughing in their minds, taking the mickey out of them both for being so nervous.

 

_It isn't as if you haven't been on a million dates already with her._

 

_Weren't dates. Showin' her the universe, we were!_ Oh he did miss that Northern burr some days. Ten seems to keep it in reserve for strong emotions.

 

_She's made the first step. Giving you her forever, take it, both of you and then find me someone._ Donna is walking away as she says it, the seed planted in their minds. **Forever** _ **.**_ How perfectly terrifying.

 

“Chips. Best chips in the Universe.”

 

“Got to be from Bar-”

 

“-Celona!” The Doctor's cry, Ten stretching himself as he does across the console, Eleven spinning knobs and flipping leavers in a fit of excitement. Rose watches on quietly, a small smile on her lips. There are two of the same man over there, piloting this crazy ship that is her home off into the Universe to get _her_ the best chips ever.

 

She wandered off to get cleaned up and change at some point, leaving the nearly brothers to their own devices. What they did was stare at each other warily for the majority of the time she was gone. For two men who were mostly the same person, they did a good deal of sizing one another up.

 

“You and Rose-”

 

“Best chippy is down on the boardwalk. She'll like it -”

 

“Oi!” “Agh!”

 

“You're!”

 

“Yeah well”

 

“I wouldn't -”

 

“Neither would I”

 

“Bu-” The Doctor's grimaced, circumventing each others sentences; trying to set the other up with their Rose. Hands on the console, stances different only due to the fact Ten was taller, slightly darker in coloring and...remarkably pale. Had he always been that pale? FRECKLES! He'd had them and never appreciated them?!

 

“This isn't going to work,” Ten straightened, crossing his arms, brow furrowed. “We're the same person, I've just got one heart, one life, and half of Donna in me. Crikey... I wonder if that means I swing both ways now. That'd be different.”

 

“We don't get involved with Companions. No domestics in the TARDIS.” Grumped the shorter, younger Doctor.

 

Ten snorted, leveling a disbelieving look at his other self. “No domestics in the TARDIS;” He mocked, “That woman says she wants the laundry room fixed and it will be done before either of us can say Raxacoricofallapatorius – and you know it.”

 

The Doctor sniffed and fiddled with another button. Truth be told he was scared, she had said she would stay, but with whom? Said she loved him – begged him not to die.

 

“We'll ask her, yeah?” Hazel eyes meet brown and both men nod. They'd let her choose, be happy with whom she chose.

 

~*

 

They don't land on Barcelona – they _crash_ on Barcelona. Seventy minutes after regenerating and the exhaustion hit Eleven so hard he passed out while flipping the acceleration lever. Donna and Ten had not been impressed. Rose, however, thought it was fitting. Two regenerations and both had tried to kill her while being a little loopy. Ten had climbed out of the TARDIS first, mumbling about needing first lodging then transportation, leaving the girls to sort his passed out counterpart.

 

“Well this will be new. You're going to get the longest new, new, _new,_ first date in history.” Donna quipped as she carefully navigated the slightly smoking ship. They were headed for the Wardrobe room, each of them needed a bag – perhaps not Ten, but certainly the rest – before attempting to leave the TARDIS.

 

“It's always new. Always wonderful.” The blonde's reply was short and earnest, making the human Time Lady smile a bit.

“So, finally made it to Barcelona and we crash. Oh, here we are, Wardrobe room!”

 

“Do you think he'll change his clothes, like a normal person I mean.” Rose questioned as they stepped into the room, finding a pink, a floral and a simple brown set of cases waiting for them off to the left. The rest of the room looked as if it had been hit by a storm of children playing dress up. Clothes were strewn every which way, a hanger was even caught on the light fixture.

 

“Doubt it. That man finds an outfit or two that suits him and sticks with it.” Donna was cheery, grabbing the floral case before handing Rose the pink one and dragging the brown behind her. “He changes for occasions though...sometimes. Says his formal wear is cursed.”

 

“Does he now.” The women laughed as they made their way back to the console room where the Doctor was still sprawled unconscious. Looking at the sleeping Time Lord, Rose flashes back to a Christmas past where she had lugged him up three flights of stairs with the help of Mickey. This time he was a bit shorter – still thin and solid, but it should work to their advantage.

 

“So...If we put our luggage by the door and carry him out, hopefully Ten will have found some transport so it doesn't look like we're abducting him.” Donna is going a mile a minute when Rose tunes back in.

 

“Shall we wait by the door then, or at least open it, the smoke is getting thicker, poor girl probably can't keep the ventilation system going and repair herself at the same time.”

 

“Yes. Brilliant. Luggage first, door open, then us and his lordship.”

 

The moment their feet touched the orange grass covered ground, the TARDIS swung shut the door with a resounding click. It was enough to rouse the regeneration addled Doctor for a few moments. His eyes sought out Rose first, and he smiled goofily before he looked around bit with wide eyes.

 

“Oh, we made it. Baaaarceloona! Dogs with no noses. You'll love it, sweet Rose.”

 

“I bet I will, Doctor.” She's smiling that smile, the one where her tongue touches her teeth. The Doctor wants to kiss the smile off her. He manages to maul her cheek with his lips.

 

“Doctor!” She laughs and nuzzles him in return, shifting his arm around her shoulders while she does.

 

“Rooooooosie.” He titters and rests his head against Donna, acknowledging her presence.

 

“Where'd the other me get off too?”

 

“Hotel and cab. Hopefully in that order.” Donna supplies and groans when she see's the Time Lord is out like a light again. They drag and toss him into the cab when it comes, make Ten drag him to their room and then they let him be.

 

He sleeps for two days – and the TARDIS keys are stone cold.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An Interlude of loaded conversation.

“It's weird.”

The words are out of Roses mouth before she realizes it and the gazes of two half human, half time lords are aimed at her. There is a question of what in the air, so thick that she can't do anything but answer.

“The TARDIS key is cold, the Doctor is sleeping, has been for about forty hours now, and we've just been sitting here. He hasn't expelled anymore arton, none of us have really talked...”

“Not much to say-” Ten began as Rose trailed off, his hand tugging at his ear, eyes and body turning toward the suite's window.

“Don't lie, Spaceman.” Donna snaps without looking at him, setting her burnt orange tea cup, that was really more akin to a soup bowl, back on it's saucer. Looking at Rose, she tucks her brilliant red hair behind her ear and starts talking again.

“It's not that there isn't something to say, Pinkie. There are a multitude of things to say, do, ponder. Most of it needs to be done between you, Spaceman one and Spaceman two. Things are likely to change, you know. Never been Time Lords about with single lives, made from humans. Rules were broken -”

“Whose rules.” Rose's honey eyes narrow, elbows settling on the table as her arms cross. “Far as I can tell. You three are the last. Only Time Lords left in existence – the rest have been erased from time because of what the Doctor had to do.”

Both Donna and Ten flinch, their color draining slightly as Rose speaks. The blonde notices, but pushes ahead anyway. Forty hours of silence will do that to a woman.

“The Doctor has rules, yeah. Don't meddle with fixed points, don't swan off – unless you're him, don't change the course of history, fix what needs fixing. Keep your heart safe and your mind safer.”

“It isn't like that -” Ten starts when Rose pauses, leaning against the window frame in his blue suit. He's tense, hands shoved in his pockets, eyes not quite as open as they usually are – that is Nine peaking through.

“It is and always will be, Doctor. You live so long and travel with humans – the only way to not go crazy is to keep them close yet not close enough. You let them go when you can't stand to see them in danger anymore. You never speak of them after.” Rose stands and moves to stand behind her chair, things that the Doctor never thought she'd noticed, really noticed, flowing from her lips like water. It made him and the bit of him in Donna, uneasy; no one laid him bare like this.

“They're alive and well in our memories.” It is Donna who cuts through the silence that threatens to go when Rose again trails off, no doubt gathering her thoughts. “The Doctor can never go back – can never just pop by and say hello to those he's left behind. If he does, he'll keep doing it. The temptation to never leave them is always there, Rose. To keep them alive and safe from everything.”

“And it is selfish to do so.” Ten interjects, accent heavy and tinged with a bit of the North.

“That is changing. I had to be left, Sarah-Jane found him again, Jack is immortal, Martha left and calls him, Mickey... He has a small platoon of people who love him now, even with a change of face and personality quirks. You have friends as well – just because you're half Donna half Doctor doesn't mean -” Rose bites off the end of her sentence, frustration lining every muscle as she stands and paces. The nearly twins let her pace, let her gather her thoughts. It is very clear that the unintended exile has weighed on her, that she's been thinking about the Doctor for years.

Now she's had forty hours to watch them, see the tension, and ultimately – think. The twins are fine left to their own thoughts; technically speaking they're still cooking too. Ten has had to figure out that his body doesn't respond to neural commands as he expects it to. He needs sleep, craves foods high in protein, actually has to deal with bodily functions in a timely manner or get very, very uncomfortable. Donna has to adjust to seeing timelines; though she often just refuses to deal with that. She knows more than she ever expected to – and sometimes it hurts.

But Rose, the pink and yellow girl turned soldier, familiar and yet not – is dealing with this in a purely human fashion. Perhaps they should have spoken more, or at all, too her in the last few hours. Kept the atmosphere less...heavy.

“What I was trying to say is – I'm not used to this anymore. I am home, yet not. You two are comfortable presences but I only know Donna in the barest of ways – and you, Doctor. The both of you really...” Pale fingers with short nails -shorter than either remember- fiddle with her hair. “Traveling and not being the first line of defense is going to be odd. Don't think I don't want that. I crave it. But, but what if I mess up, get one of you hurt?”

Shock. Pure unadulterated shock wracked the minds of Donna and Ten. They stared at the woman before them. Gone for two years, two bloody awful years, and returned to the Doctor a protector, yet, there was a bit of her that was still nineteen, twenty years old. It was hardwired to the Doctor it seemed and by extension – them.

“Rose. I have t'say this conversation took a strange turn.” Ten ribs her lightly, accent northern to it's fullest – it makes the pink and yellow woman smile a bit.

“Not your normal conversation...”

“I'll give you that.” He nods and Donna watches as he moves nearer to Rose. He'll handle this bit. Donna has long decided her need to be near Rose, courtesy of himself and his crazed arton energy, would be fulfilled with girlish companionship. (She didn't swing that way thank-you-very-much!)

“You 'n him, need to sort through being together again, one. Two, we'll need to all decided how this traveling will work now. Three of the same person in bits and pieces... Let's just say I've met past incarnations and that never went well. Can't imagine it would now on a permanent basis.”

“You- you mean you and Donna would leave?! No!” Rose is backing away from Ten and Donna groans. Maybe she should have handled this bit. He always could cock things right up with that girl.

“Not a permanent leave. Maybe grow our own TARDISes, give you and him some alone time.” Rose frowns at Donna. Her arms cross and the twins are struck with the thought that they've both cocked this up.

“I don't want you to leave. Either of you. Donna is a fantastic comrade in arms against your silly fits, Doctor and...well...you're old old you. I want old, old you and new, new, new you both around.”

“You don't know that yet.”

“Don't care. It's a gut feelin'.”

“Let's go explore, this room is too charged up with domestics!” Donna declares, finishing her tea with a flourish and succinctly defusing the nature of the conversation. It's too early for that, with the “proper” Doctor still sleeping.

She tells Ten to go to the market and find extra TARDIS parts, she hauls Rose off to the spa. There will be no more talk of such a nature until the dates. No decisions on until there needs to be.


	4. Chapter 4

The Doctor woke up to girlish squeals, yipping and a groan of resignation that he recognized far too well. He felt like hell, and the blandness of the room did him no favors – cream walls, gold trim, presumably cream carpet of some fashion, with pastel draperies. He was in a hotel, not his beloved ship. 

Time sense told him that he'd been out for forty four hours and fifteen minutes. The link to his TARDIS said she wasn't ready yet and that he would just have to be patient, thanks much. Sitting up slowly, grimacing when his joints crack, the Doctor turns his eyes to his now silent companions. 

“Hello.” He ventures quietly, eyes flitting from ginger Donna, to golden Rose, to dark Ten and back again. 

“Mornin' sleeping beauty. Thought we'd have to start rounding up royalty if you stayed cooking much longer!” Donna laughed a bit at Rose, and Ten looked at her with a small smile tugging at her lips. There was some tension between the three but it was nothing that probably wouldn't be sorted with a cuppa and good chat.

“So. What have you three been up to? Topple a government? Invent the latest fashion trend? Upgrade the sonic again? Adopt a way ward pretty boy?” Teasing comes like air, and he apparently still has quite the gob – a small comfort that little things have stayed similar this time around. 

“Adopted a Barcelonian stray, more like.” Grouses Ten, gesturing at Rose with a slight glint to his eye.

“He would have _died_ if we left him in that Market, John. You saw how people were just kickin' him out of the way like he were a bit of fluff!” Rose defends this apparent stray vehemently, her accent kicking in and making the Doctor beam.

“John? We're calling you John now, eh? Well, lets see him then. Sounds like a small one, no big strapping -” A nose-less puppy jumps onto the bed with him as if called. His tongue is hanging out, scenting the air, bottom wiggling with the might of his tail wag and purple eyes trained on the Doctor. “A puppy! You found a puppy! Rose Tyler – you are magnificent!”

Rose preens and shoots Donna and John smug looks. Whistling a quick sharp note, the puppy bounds off the bed toward her, big floppy ears almost tripping it in it's haste. 

“Yes, good boy! You're a good dog, Crackers!” The Doctor feels his eyebrows shoot into his hairline at the dog's name. Trust the pink and yellow human to name a pet after food, likely the first thing the dog ate in her presence to boot. 

“He looks more like a Jack to me.” Donna sniffs, petting the wiggling ball of energy before turning to the Doctor.

“Now that your greatness is up. We should go to eat, nearly time for tea and this one -” she jerks her head at Te- **John** “Has dragged us all over god's country. Curtailed our spa pampering spree for _parts_! I may have a big old Time Lord brain now, but I still enjoy a good massage, facial, and bit of relaxation, Space man!”

The Doctor is at a loss and tracks his eyes across the room. Two beds in this one, door leading to a sitting room, likely an en-suite attached through the second door in the room with a second bedroom attached on the other side – all very cream and orange – but there aren't any bags in sight. Ten – **John** \- must have interrupted them quite early, and judging the state of his bulging suit pockets, had bought more spare bits for the Tardis than strictly necessary. That and the girls didn't look any different. Rose's locks are honey blonde, pulled up in a messy ponytail, skin covered lightly in make up. Donna has her hair down, no make up but she's rather rosy all the same. Poor things probably didn't even make it to the check in before T- _John_ – nabbed them. 

“Tea, yes. I am quite peckish...but maybe we could order room service instead?” The Doctor cringed when he heard the plaintive tone of his voice. It was a bit...boyish. 

“Right, new taste buds and no Jackie Tyler to please. God that dinner was a trial.” Ten – JOHN – intoned, earning a wallop on the arm from Rose with an indignant “Oi!”. 

“Quite right. Let's see that menu, Ginge. Ohhh, Donna you've got a new nickname!” Crowing the Doctor rocked back on his heels before popping onto his toes with a wide smile. 

“Bout time, spaceman. The most important woman in creation was getting a bit old.” The redhead quipped, tossing the menu at the bouncing Time Lord.

“You really did turn yourself into a bloody nine year old. I'm glad I got spat out into this body.” John is giving him the hairy eye, which the Doctor shrugs off, thumbing through the menu critically.

The puppy yaps as it makes a circle around the room, tongue hanging out as it taste scents the space as thoroughly as he can manage. Rose has gone to stand with Donna, the two of them chatting quietly while the Doctor and John are left near the window and beds. 

_'So, dragged them off part shopping did you. Can't imagine either was very pleased about that.'_ The Doctor flips a page and mentally marks a dish down that the room (including him, hopefully) will enjoy.  
 _  
'Weeeeell, it was more to keep an eye on them, really. Donna can handle herself, no doubt, but pink and yellow is still jeopardy friendly.'_

_'Defender of the Earth, that pink and yellow human of ours.'_

_'Still ours to protect. Until she swans off with one or the other of us...'_ The men sigh, John resolutely looking out the window, a scowl on his face. The Doctor makes his call and ignores the questioning looks of the girls. Clapping his hands a few minutes later, he shuffles the five of them into the sitting room to chat and wait for their feast. 

~*

The food (carts really, carts and carts and _carts_ ) arrive within the hour, soup boats (not a fancy bowl, a _boat_ ), covered dishes and it all smells divine. Donna picks at a few things, sighing happily when things she likes cross her taste buds. Delicate – that's the word for how she eats. Small bites, quick sips, economic movements. As brash as she makes herself, the woman eats like a bird.

John is ravenous in comparison. Meats and veggies are piled high on his plate, not a single bit of grain or concentrated carbohydrate to be found however. The Doctor will probably talk to him about that at a later date. Well balanced diets make happy human-Time Lord tummies, after all. Rose's plate is oddly balanced. At least for how the Time Lord remembers her from before. Years ago it would be all chips or anything chip like. Now she's got rather precise portions in neat little piles on her plate.

She doesn't talk while she's eating either – it's wrong. Back in the day when they were running about the universe willy-nilly she talked all the time with him. Now all his companions were quiet at supper time. Positively unnatural. He didn't like it.

For his part the Doctor had a bit of everything. Soups seemed to be out this time around, especially the gritty ones; bothered him fiercely. He'd spit out a bit of Barcelonian pork, earning himself a look from Donna that would have scared any child straight. Groaning about his aversion to salt made John roll his eyes; and the master piece of the evening came at dessert. 

He'd tried everything. The pie, the cake, the chocolate, the apples in caramel (or what passed for it), the absolutely grand treacle – but it wasn't what he was looking for. What he wanted. His taste buds were crying out for something cool paired with something hot and crunchy. It was a travesty, one that probably wouldn't be fixed until they headed back to the TARDIS. Maybe it was a Gallifreyan treat this regeneration wanted. Wouldn't that be nice, a bit of home always needed. He really needed that.

With supper eaten and squared away to be taken away by a porter, the four sat in the front room. Rose had the pup on her lap, feet in John's lap, head pillowed against the Doctor's shoulder. Donna sat on the other side, siting so her back was against his side, the Doctor's arm up on the back of the couch. The silence was companionable, but ultimately suffocating. 

“So. Here we are on Barcelona! Only took me three years, two regenerations and a parallel universe to get you here, Rose.” 

“It's lovely, what I've seen of it.” Her reply is quiet, with a smile tinging the edges of it. It settles something in the Doctor he hadn't really noticed was agitated. 

“When did we end up landing?” He directs the question to his...siblings. John is the one that answers. “Mid-Summer, middle of tourist season, the -” “Summer festival then?” John nods with a manic smile.

“Brilliant! Tomorrow you girls are going to the spa and that night we'll be in time for the greatest festival this side of the universe!” They're talking in stereo again – it's still going to take some getting used to, for both of them. 

Donna rouses herself from her thoughts at that, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Fantastic, that means Rose and I will need to stop by the shops tonight and find something to wear. Wouldn't want to incite the locals, now.” Rose is grinning too, poor Crackers yipping as he is half on her lap, half tumbling onto the white fabric of the couch as she twists around to look at the elder woman.

“You mean new clothes don't you?” Horror draws across the faces of John and the Doctor. Green eyes meet brown over the top of blonde hair to mouth “no..they can't?”.

“Exactly. We're going on a bit of a spree m'girl. Festival lasts three days!”

The Doctor resists sighing, motioning for John to hand over his wallet when Donna and Rose both hold out their hands; identical grins on their faces. One of these days he needed to travel with men. Men didn't spend money like this on clothing. Other than Jack. Jamie had never even given a thought to clothes past making sure his were clean!

The doctors are dragged from their hotel suite by their companions. Crackers got left at the room for his own safety, with a bowl of very meaty soup. The girls were on a mission – festival appropriate kit and puppy chow. Anything else would be a bonus – or so they said. It was more like the mission was everything and the puppy chow was a bonus.

The Market was open air, quaint, and stuffed to the gills with everything under the sun that Barcelona could offer a person. Trendy stalls, junk stall, food stalls, book stalls, jewelry stalls, traditional wear and alien fashions. For the Doctor it was just a lot of stuff. He only ever went to the tech stalls unless something shiny caught his eye that he thought someone would enjoy. Wait, he also frequented book stalls. Every once in a while something from Gallifrey would turn up and be re-homed in the Tardis library. But today, he'd handed the girls the reins and dragged John along.

Neither John or the Doctor in over 900 years of time and space had seen so many bags. The girls had the ones that housed their delicates (John's word, not his.) and they held the garments or other purchases. Rose, who had previously loved anything shiny and showy, now browsed the stalls along with Donna. Commenting quietly about the cut of this or that garment and how the color would compliment the others complexion.

They lingered at stalls of bright fabric, passed ones that held only garish tones and only glanced at the ones with random trinkets. Donna didn't do meaningless trinkets for her Granddad and rarely brought things home for her mother. Rose...well. 

“How did a fish and chips date turn into this?” John looked bedraggled as yet another bag was thrust at him from Donna.

“Dunno, mate. Seems to be doing them good, having some bonding time. If all of us are staying on the Tardis, this is an excellent thing to be encouraging.”

“Not your wallet they absconded with to do this friendly bonding with.”

“Oh hush. You used the sonic on a cashpoint.”

“Wheedled the money from it fair and square! Besides these cashpoints are ridiculously low tech. There wasn't even a secondary security firewall – not very safe but helpful for us in the long run I suppose. We may want to mention it to the bank though or leave an anonymous tip because if - ”

“John.” The Doctor was laughing a bit as he interrupted the other Doctor's flow of rambling.

 

“Sorry,” Was the not even a little sheepish reply from the taller man, whose eyes were trailing after the blonde and redhead. The duo seemed to be slowing down now, the initial rush of shopping with it's handful of bags at every turn had trickled down to a bag or two every so often. The sun was setting and set the amethyst sky up in brilliant topaz flames over the market. It was beautiful, but Rose and Donna were missing it in their quest. Neither man minded, there were more days yet to spend – three if the women had their way – and they would be sure to call their attention to it. 

“You know, T-John. This isn't such a terrible way to spend a few hours.” The Doctor smiled at his counterpart, nodding toward the returning girls. 

“You're getting soft in your old age,” came the dry, and slightly amused reply.


	5. The Doctors Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a Fallas de Valencia. However the setting/time/particulars are NOT how I describe them. I took extensive creative liberties with the festival.

The morning of the festival was a flurry of activity in the girl's side of the suite. Even with the door closed, the boys could detect evidence of what had to be a whirlwind. The scent of soap, perfume and hairspray drifts past their noises. The laughter of the women teases at the Doctor and John's ears as well as the rustle of fabric. 

It makes their minds picture what could be happening beyond the door. Would Rose wear the coral today or perhaps the sapphire gown? Was the squeal of laughter because Donna was teasing her about one of them? Could she be in the room just beyond the door, in nothing but a robe, pulling at her hair and tracing on eyeliner?

“Stare at that door any harder and it's liable to go up in flames.”

John glances incredulously at the Doctor. “Like you weren't just staring as hard as I was. Beside that, you know as well as I that doors don't go up in flames from concentrated visual contact.”

“Time Lord, me – 900 years of...”  
“Time and space, yes. I am intimately aware. Fact is – you- were daydreaming!”  
“And we both liked it.”

The men laugh lightly, each straightening his own tie. For the Doctor, the tie was awkward, not his thing. Nor were the pinstripes if he was being completely honest. It would be a trip to the wardrobe room as soon as the Tardis deigned to let them return home. Pinstripes were not cool. John, however, was cool as a cucumber. The half human Time Lord had the height and dark coloring for these suits.

“What if, it's been years, yeah? Maybe... she won't want us. Either of us.” John speaks so softly that the Doctor almost misses is.

“Never happen. She crossed the void for us,” Eleven is firm, though his eyes betray a kernel of his worry. “We'll woo her, though. Human women enjoy that sort of subtle courtship. Dinner or lunches, shows, little gifts, sweet and sincere words, hand holding -”

“We're going to be rubbish at this. Except the hand holding, probably should start saying we've got a universal doctorate in it.” John interjects, his hands going for his hair. It already looked like a mess on the best of days; today it's starting to resemble a hedgehog.

“For her, we'll manage.” The Doctor keeps his voice firm and hopeful, making John smile. At least one of them had some confidence that they wouldn't royally cock this up.

A handful of moments pass in comfortable silence before the door opens. Donna bursts from the room, a smug smile lighting her face – one that doesn't detract from her overall beauty today. She's dressed in deep royal purple – the kind that makes sunsets so lovely. It suits their ginger sister of sorts better than it ought to. Rose is behind her, lingering in the door way. Her robes are silver, bringing to mind the grey of early morning. Together the women make the course of a day- the perfect pair for this festival.

Overall, the outfits are much more modest than either Doctor had mentally prepared for. The robes have square necklines that hint at cleavage, tasteful cutouts at the girl's waists and full skirts that hint at the curve of their hips. The skirts are where the real action is at anyway – in terms of decoration. Donna depicts sunset – vibrant oranges and reds dying until deep indigo, the night sky, takes over. Rose is the sunrise, the grey of dying night giving way to the pinks, swaths of yellow and pale orange a new morning. 

“Will we do?” Rose questions, moving forward to link arms with the elder companion.

“Brilliantly.” Eleven replies with a bright, boyish smile. John is suspiciously quiet beside him with pink tinged ears and naked awe coloring his face.

“Good to know you lot approve. Let's head out. I'm rather excited to see this Falla*” Donna bounces onto the balls of her feet with excitement. A little bit of Ten's personal quirks on display. The excitement appears to be contagious as it snaps John from his musings. 

“It's the end of winter, right? So that makes this -”

“A throwback of sorts to the Fallas de Valencia. An old -

“Earth festival of spain!” The three Doctor's chatter excitedly, moving to leave the hotel. Even Crackers the noseless pup is joining them for this excursion. He is tethered to the Doctor with a colorful leash the Doctor had spotted amidst yesterday's purchases. No doubt it had been Donna who'd spotted it and directed Rose to it. The practicality screamed Donna while the color was all Rose. 

The quintet traipse along to the center of the city, just a few blocks from their hotel. It isn't an overly large place, architecture being the major tourist attraction. It harkens back to the gothic center of Earth's Barcelona – though here it is doubly organic and eye catching. The mixture of Gaudi and native design mixes seamlessly. Years ago it must have been a thing of beauty to the early human immigrants. They must have had a great love of the style to integrate an Earth equivalent into their new home. 

“It's beautiful here,” Rose remarks as they take in the overwhelming decoration of the city center. Filled to the brim with people, music, and festival stalls. The barcelonians are a statuesque people with a particularly lovely range of red to golden skin tones. They've got almond eyes and their natural hair color always seems complimentary to their skin. The natives man stalls, make up most of the musicians and man power behind the parades. Off worlders make up a smaller but no less significant portion of the festival staffers. 

Good luck charms for the new fertile season are everywhere, in varying colors and size. Shiny baubles decorate stalls in droves, waiting to be bought and gifted to loved ones. Great whopping effigies of white, silver and golden demons line the center, their handlers with them. The square is a feast for the senses and the Doctors are giddy.

John bounces around, grasping at Roses hand while he points to bits and bobs around them. The Doctor feels his hearts clench and a hot alien feeling takes up residence in his stomach when he spies Roses's face. That was his look. The “I'm impressed, you're adorable, let me kiss you” adoring look shining at John. 

“Stop sulking, Spaceman.” The Doctor casts a sullen glance at Donna, frown marring his features.

“Time Lords do not sulk.”

“Tell that to your face.” The redhead retorts with a look. Nodding at the human Time Lord and rose, she speaks again. “Isn't that what you wanted? Her to choose?”

Eleven grunts and the frown deepens; eyes burning darkly at the backs of Rose and John. His companion sighs, frowning as she weaves a hand around the Doctor's forearm. The former temp tugs him in the opposite direction from the lanky brunette and cheerful blonde. 

“Show me around, Doctor. Let's find something perfect to tell Rose about. Something you can use to do a bit of your own wooing.” Crackers yips his approval of this plan, eager to bound through the streets again.

“I'm not -”

“Shut up. Be brainy for a bit.”

~*

“Barcelona is amazing, Doctor.” Rose gushes, her hand firmly wrapped around John's. He congratulates himself on not flinching. He is and isn't the Doctor – and Rose has to know that on some level, but this is not the time or place to get into it.

“Always wanted to take you here, you know -”  
“Back when you were fantastic and I was just a former london shop girl, yeah.” Rose cuts in, a small reminiscent smile on her lips. John glances at her from his periphery, a small near unnoticeable look of upset on his face.

“You, Rose Tyler, were never -just – a shop girl.”

The words make her blush prettily, and in turn, that blush has butterflies taking up residence in John's diaphragm. Giving her a wide smile, he nods his head in an onward motion. With shared grin of adventure, the couple is off again. As they stroll along, Rose takes notice of the effigies. Some, the white, are menacing. They're all snarling faces, ice blue eyes that could freeze your very soul, blue teeth that put a sharks to shame and similarly tipped talons.

The gold are deceivingly tame. They could be mistaken for female faeries – bright smiles, honey brown eyes, opalescent wings. The ones that are smiling widely – have terrifying teeth and their hands are clawed. The silver are the least frightening and almost plain in comparison to the white and gold. These are male, almost benevolent with cheery rose colored cheeks that stand out against the pallor of their skin. They eyes are devoid of warmth however, though the rest of the silver effigy is designed to be welcoming. Rose decides to question John about them.

“These are the winter demons,” He explains, pointing from white to silver, “Those gold ones are the spring sun demons.”

“Why would the seasons have demons? Spirits make sense -” 

“In the 1400s, Valencia had this festival, celebrating the end of winter with the burning of these effigies at the festivals end. Barcelonians adapted the old festival to their own beliefs.”

“Sort of like yule and christmas?”

John beams at Rose's connection, his enthusiasm ratcheting up another ten notches. “Exactly. The festival at Valencia only featured white demons. Here, obviously there are three. The snow,” He indicates the white, “the winter wind”, nodding to the silver, “and last but very certainly not least, the spring sun demons.”

“The winter winds here can be brutal, and while the snow storms are more often white outs than not, the wind is what will kill. It's been known to drop body temperatures past survival levels in minutes. Barcelonians make some excellent winter wear, honestly, they're brilliant. I've never seen better coats anywhere in the universe!”

Rose smiled, shaking her head, gold hair swishing about as she did so. Turning from the silver and white paper-mâché creatures John points to one of the golden demons. His eyes meet hers as he launches into the next leg of his lecture.

“The spring sun demons aren't the ones that will be burned at the end of this festival. The white and silver will be “sacrificed” to appease these little guys.”

“Why does that make a difference? As long as the Barcelonians celebrate the end of the cold season shouldn't the spring demons be pleased?”

“You'd think so, but the spring sun demons are fickle. If the festivities aren't to their liking, the demons will hide for an extra month – nearly two and set back the harvest. If it's too much, summer will come early and ruin the sprouts. Everything has to be just right according to the superstition here.”

Rose worries her bottom lip between her teeth for a long moment. The story is fascinating and she can't help but wonder if the festival has other stories tied to it, if they really still believe in such things. When she voices her questions to John, his face lights up and he gathers her into his arms, swinging her in a fast circle.

“Oh Rose Tyler, how I've missed you. The others were always interested, but no one ever made me feel so happy to answer questions like you.”

“Not even Donna?” Rose teases, her tongue peeking between her teeth as she smiles.

“Donna, much as I love the woman, frightens me some days. Has a slap your mum would be proud of. She's the sister I've always needed.” John shudders theatrically when he mentions the Tyler slap, prompting Rose to laugh some more, her arms squeezing around his shoulders. He's been dreaming of moments like these – like before she was lost- with dampened hope. John and the Doctor are lucky creatures if the universe deigned to let him -either of them- keep her. 

“Come on, Mr. Impressive, let's find the new, new, new Doctor and our wonderful redheaded temp from Chiswick.”

~*

Donna was worried for her Doctor. He'd been clamming up since John had shuffled off with Rose. At first he'd pushed it aside, been his chatty know -it -all martian self, but now he was quiet. They were standing in front of a flower stall. Gorgeous arrangements of blossoms sitting in varying size bouquets. The Doctor had turned his green eyes to a bouquet of raspberry colored blooms and just stopped talking. He'd been telling her about the Gaudiesque architecture.

“Doctor?” She tried, bumping her shoulder against his. “Shall we get these for Rose? She'd like the color, yeah.” Nothing came in response, not even a sigh.

“This is silly Martian boy. She's just gone off for a bit. Thought you two had decided to both court her. Let her decide who she wanted to stay with.” Her brows shot into her hairline when the man before didn't even twitch. He was just staring sadly with big watery green eyes at the blossoms.

'Bloody hell. Maybe...I can see timelines. Just a quick peek to see if I can see anything.' Donna is mentally grasping at straws to get the Doctor to respond. There's no danger, he is well out of the realm of regeneration sickness being a problem and it makes no sense. She'd been privy (in a way) to the conversation when they decided to both date Rose. Taking a deep breath, Donna closes her eyes and looks inside herself. 

Her mind is a series of doors, neat desks, filing cabinets and clear walkways. Clutter had never been her style. A golden door is at the end of the longest hallway. It was new and made her head throb, so she'd placed it a safe distance from where she'd be in and out of constantly. 

Her hand laid on the door and the throbbing started. Her left grasped the door handle and Donna thought she might faint. Grimacing and tugging it open, her neat corridors, desks and doors are swept away by a sea of golden light. She screams.

The scream echos through the festival, startling many revelers. John and Rose are two streets over when they hear it, taking off running for their fellow travelers. The Doctor catches his best friend as she crumples. The mental screaming is something he'll never forget from this moment forward. 

'We're coming, what happened?!' John is at the forefront of the elder Time Lord's mind, frantic for his sister. 

'Not sure. Going to try and access her mind.' Was the return before he lined his fingers with Donna's temples and tried to ease into her consciousness. In reality, he fell into the sea of time within her head. It was burning her. Great flames from the timelines roared through Donna's mind, the Doctor standing untouched at the edge of the maelstrom. 

It could have been hours or moments when John arrived, suddenly standing beside the Doctor, hands grasping his arm and forcibly dragging him out. Gasping like he'd been underwater for far longer than he could handle, the Doctor looked grimly up at Rose and his clone. He barely gives a thought to the pup that noses Donna continually, whimpering before retreating to Rose's side. 

“She's dying. There's nothing I can do -”

“The hell she is!” Rose cuts in fiercely, eyes like daggers. It startles both the men into looking at her. “You can get into her mind, yeah? Set up barriers around whatever it is that's hurtin' her. We'll get her in the Tardis -”

“And then what, Rose?!” The Doctor lashes out at the young woman, fear and anger at his helplessness lining every movement. “If the Tardis is done her own regenerating and she lets us in, then what? THEN WHAT?!” He is yelling, actually yelling at her and she just takes it.

“Then you don't give up on her. You do scans, you be brilliant and you save her. That woman is your best friend in the whole universe. You, Doctor, don't give up on her!” Rose is calm, but her words cut into both John and the Doctor. They can hear the unspoken “like me” at the end of that sentence. They can still hear Donna's plaintive mental calls for help – her scream of pain.

“Rose is right. I'll go in, my mind is more in tune with her than yours. We'll get the Tardis to let us in, it's an emergency. Donna can't go like this.” John is already picking the prone form of his friend up. Situating her so her temple is pressed to his chin, he starts to move, eyes far away, leaving the Doctor, Rose, and Crackers to scramble after him. 

The maelstrom is crashing through her, beginning to spread and burn Donna's mind. He can't find her in this storm, she must be somewhere safe. He prays she got to safety or this will all be for nothing. Barriers of conventional means are torn down the moment they're erected. 

That isn't what concerns John. He needed to know the strength of the storm. What concerned him was when he stuck his hand into it. Timelines, as far has the eye could see. That was what was tearing Donna's mind to pieces. She's got a Time Lord brain's worth of senses and information overlapping her own. He isn't sure they'll be able to save her and keep her. He builds a glass dome around the storm. It whips and crashes against it – but moves no further.

John prays the Tardis will have more answers and retreats.

~*

The Doctor follows with Rose and the dog, and he wants to be angry with her. The blonde is giving him hope – has stood up to him and pulled him out of despair more times than he cares to count. He needs her, needs Donna. He isn't sure if one leaves the other will be enough.

When did he need his companions like this? When did he start building a family after the war? More importantly why was he setting himself up to experience pain again. Donna was dying in his counterpart's arms. Rose would leave when she passed, more than likely taking John with her. He'd be alone in the Tardis again...

“Doctor.” Rose is looking at him, concern in her voice. “We'll fix Donna. You, me, and John. Nothing is going to take her from us, not without a fight.” The Doctor can tell she believes it, believes that he's got answers, that the Tardis will reveal the missing piece. He grasps onto her hope.

When they reach the Tardis, it's Rose who gets her to open up. The human has the sense of calm needed to convey the situation to his frankly magnificent ship. They are thankful for it. John is filling the Doctor in on the nature of Donna's ailment and things seem bleak. However, they at least have the Tardis open, can use the Med bay and maybe even his old laboratory to do something. 

Crackers is absently let off his leash when they step into the console room. The Tardis' power is low from her regen, the ship's lights are dim as the Doctor leads them to the medical bay. No one is speaking, and Donna's mental calls are softer, less urgent. The dome is holding up but John is paling; he hasn't quite left her mental scape yet and it's showing. 

The medical bay has been merged with his old laboratory. A faint memory of grace crosses the doctors' minds before they get to work. Rose helps John get Donna onto an examination table and Eleven scurries around for his diagnostic equipment. He turns to see Rose with his old stethoscope, movements confident as she checks Donna's heart and breathing. 

“Her heart is still going strong and there's nothing going on with her lungs. I'm going to assume that everything happening is still just effecting her mind.” When did his Rose get so grown up, the Doctor wonders, coming forward with a scanner as John replies a gruff affirmative.

“We need to look at whats going on in her noggin – chemically anyway.”

“It's the time sense, probably a couple others as well, just overlapping her consciousness. I've never seen anything like it-”

“Course not. You're the only two human-Time Lord meta-crises in existence.” 

“Not the point. It's like -”

“Blimey! Look at this! Her brain is beautiful, lit up like a fourth of july celebration in Washington, too.”

Rose and John crowd around the Doctor and his diagnostic scanner. Sure enough, on the screen is an image of Donna's brain. She's lit up everywhere, like all of her synopsis, every single one of them, is continually firing. Rose can't make out much more than that, but the Doctor's are off like a shot.

“It's like she's trying to merge the two sets of knowledge. Two brains attempting to become one. That's impossible, she's going to burn.”

“She won't burn, not yet. The barriers are holding. We've got time, Doctor.” John is all northern gruff, stance hard and closed off. His eyes are a bit frantic, and Rose can see all three of her Doctors in front of her right now.

“The barriers aren't going to last indefinitely. You're half way to exhaustion already. We've got to do something now. I just can't see a way around erasing the Time lord half. Shutting it away and never seeing -”

“Shut up. God how did I become an idiot child over the course of two regenerations? Read her radiation levels – I've got an idea.”

“Care to share with the class?” Rose interjects as Eleven does as he's told. John eyes her and nods.  
“If I'm right, she'll still have arton energy flying around from the meta-crisis. If she doesn't, maybe fate will throw us a bone and the huon particles from when we first met will be dormant somewhere. Point is, Rose, if we're lucky, if we're very, very lucky – she can be saved.”  
“So you're going to what, attempt a regeneration on a fully human Time Lord? Are you mad?!” Eleven moves faster than Rose ever thought the Doctor could. He's between her and John, brandishing the radiation reader, face stormy. 

“Not her body – just her mind. It's like one of those 21st century computers. An Apple trying to integrate a Windows operating system.” John huffs, grabbing the device from the Doctor and whipping out his brainy specs to study it. 

“It's never been done.”

“Traveling through time had never been done at some point.”

“This is different!”

“I'm well aware of that, brother. It could work! We could save her life and not shut out everything she's become in the process!”

“We can't.” The Doctor is adamant, John indifferent to the other man's reservations and Rose steps in.

“Stop it, both of ya. Doctor what alternatives are there to the forcible reboot so a new Donna operating system can happen?” Rose asks as she insinuates herself between the arguing time lords.

“We lock up her memories of the meta-crisis, of ...”  
“He means we put her back to the day before she ever met us. Put in plausible substitutions of the memories and leave her to live her merry little ape life.” John's words are tinged with venom, eyes hard when Rose glances at him.

“That wouldn't be fair to her, Doctor.” Eleven cringes at the softly spoken words – an underlying message in them again. You can't make the best choice for us, nor should you.

“What if we lose her?” John and Rose almost miss the sentence, it is so soft and so full of fear. Green eyes are staring at them, desperate and so very frightened. John comes to the rescue this time, surprising his pseudo-brother and Rose equally. 

“Then at least we didn't take it all away. We'll bring her home, tell her story and she'll never be forgotten. But, we aren't going to lose her – she has residual arton. We need to just give her an extra boost and let the arton do it's job.” The Doctor nods swallowing back what could have been tears or fear, neither Rose or John could tell.

“O.k. Right. Need arton energy. Let's see if the old girl can spare some. I've expended entirely too much lately.”

“Quite right.” John is murmuring and getting paler with each passing moment. Rose trots off to the console room without either man noticing.

Sitting beside the console, Rose strokes the Tardis and speaks to her quietly. The ship hums quietly in response – she is reluctant for anyone to harvest arton from her. Rose tries some more, conveys the dire need for this to happen, though she is positive the Tardis has been watching. Tears and anger are welling up within the blonde – she smacks a hand onto the console's base. 

“We need help. Donna needs help. The Doctor needs this from you.” The plead is angry, confusion is wrapped around the human at her heart and the Tardis sighs. She can't, won't, let bad wolf out. 

The more Rose talks, however, the more she cajoles, promises new parts on behalf of the Doctor; the more the Tardis thinks. Her pilots need the red one, the blonde needs her pilots whole, the red one just wants to live.This is tricky. She needs to get the arton to Donna safely. Too much and it will be Bad Wolf all over again, too little and the redhead dies anyway. 

“I know you can hear me. Help her, please! The Doctor, John, they'll be devastated if anything happens to her. She's their best friend, sister!” Rose is yelling now, tears are falling on the grating. The Tardis shifts, presses the words red one and console room, into the pink and yellow human's head. It is then that John screams.

Rose runs without saying thank you. The Tardis doesn't mind in this instant, time is of the essence, and Donna Noble is the most important woman in the whole of creation and now one of her pilots is in pain too.


	6. Chapter 6

The Ten, the Ace, and the Queen of Hearts.

Part 6

 

_“Doctor! DOCTOR! Get Donna to the Time Rotor – the Tardis!” Rose yelled as she ran to the medical laboratory. John cried out again as she rounded the door way._

 

_“Rose, we need -”_

 

_“No! Pick up Donna and get her to the bloody time rotor. The Tardis will help!” Rose pulled at the Doctor who was panicking over the writhing redhead and his clone-come-brother._

 

_“She – the barriers are falling, it's burning them both. Rose we're going to lose them.” His eyes weren't seeing her, he wasn't hearing her. The blonde pulled back her hand and let a slap fly. Her hand throbbed after the crack sounded from her hand meeting the Time Lord's jaw. Catching his eye as she turned to Donna she ground out her directions again._

 

_“Help me get Donna to the Time Rotor, Doctor.” Together they hauled the unconscious woman into the console room with John stumbling just steps behind her. The Tardis was bleating warningly at the Doctor and Rose, John was about to collapse and Donna was burning._

 

_“Get her to the console – like Blon, I think. We – We shouldn't be in here when it happens. Hurry Doctor!”_

 

_They all but drape Donna against railing, before retreating. John stays even after Rose screeches at him to shift. He just waves them off as golden light and a sweet comforting song envelopes the room and chases them off. They reach the med lab and the door, that wasn't there before, slams against Donna's yell. He can only hope it's one signaling her regeneration._

 

The Doctor wakes slowly, consciousness coming to him at the rate of cold sap just starting to flow. He's warm – unusually warm-, movements are restricted and his pillows were _never_ this big. Old eyes flutter open, the lights are dim and his pillow smells like his old hair product and Rose? Why would his pillow smell of Rose?

 

His answer comes in the form of a body rolling against him. Warm, pliant, golden hair, fair skin, jasmine perfume and something he would forever associate with one human woman. The Doctor feels vaguely like he'd been electrocuted when her face burrows against his neck – and an arm slaps against his from behind him. Those fingers were his once. Oh this...This is. Well. New, this is new. It's been centuries since he woke up next to anyone after sleeping, let a lone a former self and companion. He'd been quite young and still living on Gallifrey when he last woke up to _two_ people in his bed.

 

“Go t'sleep, Doctah.” Rose is mumbling against his neck, soft lips catching a bit against him. That – that- is not what he expected to wake up to. Not that this isn't pleasant – more than pleasant, brilliant really. Gulping he manages to squeak at something of reassurance to his golden human before John rolls more fully against him.

 

Oh, this is. Somewhere, some _when_ they were breaking laws – had to be. Delicious human girl, mostly human man, who was gorgeous if he did say so himself, pressed against a poor helpless alien? Yes. This was all kinds of illegal and the Doctor's brain was shorting out a bit at the prospect.

 

Should he leave? Wiggle from between his wonderfully warm companions to go tinker? He could probably make a new Sonic before they got up. No doubt John would want the old one, the one he'd claim as “his”. Or he could fix the laundry room; wasn't like they could burden Jackie with the wash anymore. Thinking to that end, how did the laundry get done now for Donna? Maybe she had that many clothes!

 

“Yer thinkin' too loud. Sleep.” John's sleep gruff voice sounds from behind him and the Doctor stills. His mind's gone blank, breath caught in his chest. “Sleep.” Illegal. It should be illegal to be able to croon like that! However rattled the Doctor is, he stays still. They're warm, so wonderfully warm and it makes him feel safe, at peace. The Time Lord is lulled slowly to sleep once more.

 

~*

 

When the Doctor swims back into the waking world, his bed is empty; no nearly him or pink human warmth to greet him. His hearts clench as he swings out from beneath his blankets. He needs a shower and there's a trip to the wardrobe room in order. The pinstripes aren't him anymore, he can't face them being gone without being one hundred percent him.

 

His bathroom hasn't changed much – shower, tub, toilet and vanity all in the same configurations they've always been in. The room itself is turquoise; bright shining copper covering what had once been organic coral. The Doctor doesn't pause longer than a sweep of his eyes around the room as he disrobed; tossing his old clothing into the laundry shoot. They may not fit him any longer but if John were so inclined, the Doctor would let him have a least two changes of his old uniform.

 

Hot water was his thing still. Nine had favored cool temperatures, but then he'd been physically cooler than normal in that body. Ten often took frigid showers but had migrated to warmer temperatures later in his travels. The Doctor this time around just wants to be warm. Standing in the spray, he gives himself a once over. Long toes, smaller feet, though not terribly, narrower through the ball. Good ankles, thin calves – thighs too. His bits are familiar, same shape, nearly the same size and in working order – granted he hadn't yet used them enough to know otherwise. Hands are good, fine enough for electrical work, no ham fists this time around either. Wrists are sturdy, won't have to worry about re-learning how to take falls to avoid a broken bone. The arms aren't bad, nothing to phone home about though.

 

This man is over all wiry. The Doctor doubts he'll ever have any brawny regenerations; he's only got three left anyway. Sighing, the Doctor ducks his head under the water, reaching for a bottle at random and bringing it to his nose. The first is a body wash, smells of cherries. It goes back on the shelf, another is plucked from beside it. Oranges. It goes back. Something floral next, it gets chucked out of the stall all together. Bananas – thrown against the back of the stall. Rain – replaced. Green tea – tossed. Sandalwood ends up making the cut.

 

He doesn't bother with a loofah, choosing to pour a bit of the soap into his hand before systematically lathering his arms and chest. The sandalwood is soothing to his senses and the soap itself is gentle. A few past regenerations had favored harsh chemical mixtures – ones that bit at the skin and left you feeling as if you'd been rubbed raw. Ten hadn't, nor had Five or the First.

 

Washing his hair brings around a similar process. A light, almost minty scent is the one that ends up being chosen. He likes the way it made his nostrils tingle. Massaging it onto his scalp has the same effect.

 

With his bathing ritual complete, the Doctor is again left standing under the water. His hands are pruning; skin reddening under the heat. He smooths a hand over his face, willing himself to get out and make his way to the wardrobe room.

 

He stays in the shower another forty-five minutes.

 

~*

 

Rose sits in the new console room jump seat contemplating what to do as she looks around. The Tardis had finished her regeneration while the lot of them had slept. She was truly a sight to behold now. Sleek, shiny – utterly new. Gone is the exposed coral, the silly conglomeration of space junk that littered the console proper, no more grating, no more hundreds of hallways converging onto this singular room.

 

The galley was under the console platform proper, snaking under the set of stairs that led to the main corridor. Off the main corridor with a sharp left were the living quarters; take a sharp right and you'd find the media room, library and wardrobe room. Down the main, round the corner, hanging a left found you at the pool. Hang an immediate right instead of left and you found a room that was locked.

 

Rose and John had taken a short tour of the new Tardis when they'd woken up. It was mostly to keep Rose from running back into the Doctor's bed, truth be told. She hadn't been happy when John dragged her from the fluffy warm comforter and cool body of the Doctor. However, they had a thing to do.

 

Donna is awake – the Tardis had woken John the moment it happened. He is off in her room and Rose doesn't want to sit in on the tongue lashing she is sure he's getting. The half human had put himself in danger to keep Donna as stable as he had. Rose had seen how poorly he was when the Tardis had begun to open herself the day before. White as a sheet, glazed eyes, shallow labored breathing and an unsteady gate – it had frightened her.

 

Now he's back to himself, freckled, spectacled , and checking on his sister. Donna would have her go at him, probably also at the Doctor then it would be her turn.

 

Rose could wait. She stood and wandered in the direction of the library. It is still a labyrinth of books – and there's no time like the present to gain some knowledge.

 

~*

 

John sighs, looking at the controls of the Tardis. He is flying her – to Chiswick. Donna had made it clear she wanted to spend some time with Wilf and her mother. Give the three of them time “to sort what needs sorting, and shag whom needs shagging”. Cheeky, blunt woman. Cheekier Tardis for flying without a single bump or de-mat noise.

 

The half human man feels like all the women in his life are ganging up on him and his other self. Rose had even abandoned him to Donna's wrath! She never did that – not after the first slap with Jackie. John heaved another sigh. His sister is right of course – they need to sort whats going to happen. Maybe even clue Rose into the plan of woo-ing and choosing.

 

Donna is at the door before John even realizes she's in the room – a satchel purse over her arm and a knowing smile lighting her face. He gapes a moment before running a hand through his hair and pushing away from the controls.

 

“So. You're off for some rest and relaxation, well deserved mind, got your brain restarted. Donna two point oh running smooth as a baby's bottom.”

 

“Spaceman – shut it. Three days and you'd best be back, with that girl sandwiched between the two of ya. Donna, the Spacemen and the Defender of Earth in the Tardis – seeing the universe. Do **not** bullocks this up.” She's teasing him and pulling the door open. John laughs lowly and nods to his best friend. The Doctor is going to be pissed she didn't tell him she was staying at home for a few days.

 

~*

 

If anyone told the Doctor that Tardis regeneration meant things were no longer in the spots he remembered them previously being in – he'd conveniently forgotten. Not that Rose would say much in way of outrage when he turns up slightly damp, towel around his waist, in the library. In fact – the cheeky human smiles that smile.

 

“Well, hello Doctor. Misplace your closet?”

 

The man in question tosses her a slightly amused and a touch annoyed look. “As a matter of fact, Tyler, I have.”

 

“Tyler? That's new.” She's removed her feet from under her, leaning forward with her book supporting her elbows as she studies him. He can't remember a time when her face hid so much from his eyes.

 

“New, new, Doctor. I suppose we should be thankful I'm not calling you wench, or woman, peasant even!” He crows, bouncing forward slightly on his toes. It makes her smile – his hearts soar. The Doctor is tense, though he's trying to hide it behind his new boyish smile. Rose sees past it though, just like she always has.

 

“You thought we were gone, didn't you?” The blonde is up and out of her chair before he can shrug it off, make a quip. It catches the Doctor off balance and he forgets all he's got in the way of armor is a towel.

 

“Well, I mean. Just me. Daft face again. Shorter even. He's old me. Fantastic hair me. _Your_ me – one heart, all the right hormones...”

 

“Doctor,” Rose exhales, her face a sad kind of tight as she regards him; no doubt choosing her words carefully. She always chooses her words so carefully, his pink and yellow companion. “Told you when you regenerated. I love you, not leaving you. John isn't leaving either, or Donna. We're going to all travel with you until the very end.”

 

He cringes. The very end, he hates endings; endings mean no illusions – no happy thoughts of immortal humans running about in his mind. If they all stay to the end, it will be so -permanent- he could get them killed, would have to watch them die.

 

“Stop it.” Rose's voice is a bit hoarse, like something is caught in her throat, whiskey brown eyes bearing into his own with a different kind of determination. “Doctor -”

 

“I won't watch you die.” He cuts in, words a bit harsh, heavily hanging between them.

 

“You're not too old for a slap.” Rose snaps, channelling her mother and making him flinch, hand coming up to his cheek as if to ward her off. It makes her give a bark of laughter and then she is just a blur of motion. The hand on his cheek is pulled this way, the one laying limply against the terry cloth pulled another and he's got an armful of pink camisole, warm skin, the smell of Rose Tyler.

 

“Oh, _Rose_.” He sighs, arms coming around her in a tight hug, lifting her shorter frame up off the ground a few centimeters. “Rassilon, I have _missed_ you.”

 

“Quite right, too.” She mutters, making him flinch again. Nine hundred bloody years of time and space and he bollocked that moment right to the void. After a time he separates himself from her, fiddling nervously with his towel, tucking it more firmly.

 

“What about John? He...I don't. It doesn't make any sense for you to -”

 

Rose arches a brow – one that is no longer as thin as she used to keep them, he notes. “Doctor, I love _you._ John is _you_ , too. Can't leave either of you – just doesn't make sense. If I can love you with **three** different faces, I can love you in two different places as well.”

 

Her tongue slips from between her teeth as she smiles, and the Doctor feels his body suffuse with heat. That is. Well. Yes. O.k. He could be flexible, question was, could John?

 

Rose, that crafty vixen, takes his moment of shock, and ups the ante. Her lips connect with his and for a second he flails, arms waving about, unsure of what they should be doing. It's a long moment and just as Rose begins to pull away, the Doctor's body snaps into action. His arms weave themselves around her frame, one lingering at her hips, skirting the lower edge of her back, the other burying itself in her golden hair.

 

She tastes of black tea, peppermint, faintly of wax and something uniquely her. His kiss is soft, tentative, and he thanks all the stars in the sky that Rose doesn't pull away. Her hands land at his naked shoulders, a shiver running through him as her finger tips shift. She is returning the kiss with gentle pressure, their breaths mingling for a pregnant moment before those soft lips press open in a whisper of movement.

 

The Doctor follows the movement. Mimics it with little hesitation and finds that the tongue that has plagued him for years, is peaking out once more, brushing gently against his bottom lip. He groans and pulls his companion to press against him fully, barely registering her pleased smile against his mouth. The Doctor lets his tongue seek Rose's. He plays it against hers, seeks out what will make her sigh and squirm against him. They experiment together, varying pressure and angles until they find a way to slot their mouths together in such a way that compliments the fit of their bodies.

 

Rose feels like she's dreaming. Here she is, standing in the middle of the Tardis library, snogging the newly regenerated Doctor, with him in little more than a tea towel. The situation sort of fits them though. Outrageously unexpected. Just like his tongue doing _that_ to hers. It makes her brain melt, a needy sound worm is way up her throat and her hips twist against his. The reaction is one he must have been aiming for, because the Time Lord chuckles into the kiss. He does it again, traces her lips languidly before thrusting to meet her tongue with his.

 

Her hands are twisting into the Doctor's hair at the nape of his neck when they hear an awkward cough. Pulling apart, they turn to see John, one hand fisted in his pocket, the other ruffling his hair. His eyes are studying the chair off to the left, and every line of his body holds a practiced looseness.

 

“So, you're awake then. Good. And you found Rose. Also good, and you, uh, seem to have found the joy of kissing. I was just going to ask Rose if she wanted some tea. But, I think I'll go calibrate the landing break, you two are busy and -”

 

Rose sighs, disentangling herself from the Doctor, striding forward confidently to John. she takes the half human Doctor's face in her hands and slots her lips firmly against his. John squeaks, eyes darting from Rose to the Doctor, who shrugs with a slight smirk. He stands stock still until she pulls away. His cheeks are red and chocolate eyes uncertain.

 

“John. Like I told the Doctor. I've loved you with three faces – I can certainly love you in two places... _If_ you want that.” The last part of her sentence is hesitant. She's giving either or both of them an out.

 

_'She...wants us both?'_ the murmur through their link makes the Doctor nod, but not respond. He wants Rose, and if this morning was any indication at all – he will _not_ kick John out of the mix.

 

_'I can hear that you know...'_ John murmurs petulantly with a glint in his eye before wrapping Rose in his arms. His brown eyes are dark, and the Doctor is sure that were he to look into his counter part's mind, he'd see some filthy day dreams. Instead, the Doctor watches with interest as John cups Rose's cheek, tilts her head just so – and devours her.

 

The Time Lord is aware of the pheromones saturating the room, courtesy of Rose and the other Doctor, even his own, but he is more interested in the way they're entwined. Her hands went straight for John's hair, ruffled it, raked her nails through it and then anchored herself to him by it. He's got her on tip toe, though he's still bending a bit – Johns arms are wrapped around her waist, they're pressed so tightly together that he can nearly touch his own ribs.

 

They're beautiful together, the Doctor decides, shifting a bit as he watches their mouths slide together. Their tongues can be glimpsed every so often, and it's affecting him more than he'd thought it could. He's tasted her. Knows what they taste like together, mouths mingled. John has kissed her long enough to erase any trace of Doctor and know just Rose. The Doctor dimly notices he's moving toward them, barely registered that he'd like to know what it is that John and Rose taste like. What _John_ tastes like.

 

Rose shifts, a sound of surprise disappearing into John's mouth when the Doctors hands settle themselves of her hips. He's close, so close she fancies that if she turns her head a bit more and breaks the kiss with John, she'll initiate one with the Doctor. What in fact happens, is when John pulls away for a moment, his lips are claimed by his counter part. She's stuck in the middle, watching as their mouths war with each other centimeters from her face. It makes her breath catch. John and the Doctor are all teeth and tongue – there is no gentle slotting of lips against each other. No exploration to taunt and hint at better things.

 

He tastes of newness, time, and Rose – he tastes like himself with a hint more iron tossed in the mix. The Doctor's hands grip Rose's hips tightly, he is plastered against her back. He knows this mouth, these teeth, that tongue, literally better than his own at the moment. If he flicks his tongue against the top of his mouth, it's going to tickle John. If he traces his teeth, he'll shiver. It's exhilarating and possibly a tad bit strange.

 

_'This has got to be the_ _ **height**_ _of narcissism.'_ He quips, fingers sliding under the camisole Rose is wearing, smiling when she shifts against him a bit restlessly. John hugs her to him tighter, her hands having migrated from his hair to clutch at his jacket lapels, smiling into the kiss.

 

_'You don't seem to have any issue with it, pretty boy.'_ Is the snarky reply, accompanied by a light bite to his bottom lip, agile tongue poking out to sooth it.

 

_'Just an observation. We take first place in observation.'_ Chortles the Doctor as they part, both turning to look at the young woman trapped between them. Rose is watching them wide eyed, pupils blown so much less of her amber irises are visible. She's taking little sips of air and it's then that John notices she's rocking her hips toward him subtly. Apparently, they've not scared her off with the little show.

 

John turns her face to his, sliding his lips against hers in a feather light kiss. Once, twice, thrice before Rose mewls, head tilting. The Doctor has her hair bundled off to the side in one hand, lips ghosting over her pulse point. Taking Rose's chin and tipping it up, John takes her mouth again; tongue plunging past her lips – making her squirm with a needy little noise. The Doctor's teeth worry the skin just beneath her jaw, his breath – cooler than a human's- makes gooseflesh rise over her arms.

 

Rose has such a tight hold on the lapels of John's jacket as he plunders her mouth that her knuckles are white. There's a distinct possibility she might rip the fabric. Her hips brush against his almost shyly, the reciprocating movement from his hips bringing her to brush back against the Doctor. It makes the hand on her hip squeeze, his mouth skims down her neck to the junction where it meets her shoulder before he nips at it. He sucks, licks and nibbles – making Rose dance for him, mouth still connected to his counterpart's.

 

Not a one of the trio decides to move – the Doctors' focus on Rose, Rose's focus on what they're doing to her. Someone must have, however, because soon enough, amidst kissing, grinding and groping they're no longer in the library. A room Rose has never seen before, but instantly knows it as the Doctor's, seemingly springs up around them. The only things she notices are the presence of a bed, and the desk covered with bits of sonic screwdrivers.

 

Her focus is brought back to the Doctors when she hears a soft rustle of fabric. She turns in time to see John's blue jacket settle onto the floor, umber eyes intent on her face as his vest is tugged from his pants by the impatient hands of the Doctor. It's exhilarating and confusing to see that they're all right with touching each other – that they enjoy it. The expression on her face must give her thoughts away because a positively sinful laugh erupts from John.

 

“Same man, love. No need to be shy about touching, _enjoying_ each other.” His voice sends shivers down her spine and sparks of heat erupt just under her skin in all the best places. Rose opens her mouth to reply but is distracted by the mop of tawny hair. This new Doctor is shorter than his previous and new self, not by much, but still noticeable. His mouth is level with the hollow of John's throat; a fact he takes full advantage of, stepping into the other man's personal space, tongue snaking out to lap at the indenture, hands pulling the vest up when the hollow can no longer hold his attention. They part when John is as shirtless as the Doctor, sharing a look and advancing on their companion.

 

The companion in question squeaks a little, shivering at the dark, promising look they're both pinning her with – jumping for the bed. She feels like playing a bit hard to get, wants to make them work for it, well her clothes at least. The smile that lights her face is incentive enough for the men when they follow her. Rose is perched at end, eyes on the Doctor's towel, calculating how quick she's got to be to snag it off him when John appears at her side. She can feel his warmth and gasps when one hand grasps her waist, pulling her against his chest. The other traces up her side, over the tank teasingly. It makes her shiver.

 

The Doctor watches as he crawls to them, marks the trail of John's fingers over the line of her side, dipping under the waist of her sweatpants with tiny sleeping sushis on them across her pelvis. He's going to follow the same path with his mouth shortly. Under her shirt and brushing against her breasts. He's going to suckle at her taut nipples and lay a path for John later.

 

Rose is reaching for him, though, and he goes like she's pulling him. Their mouths meet and she's got an urgency to her. It's needy, wet and so very good. Rose is breathing little moans and sighs into the Doctor's mouth as John toys with her. He can feel the movement's of the other man's hands against her skin – plucking at her nipples, squeezing at her breasts. The Doctor's hands go for her pants, tugging at the strings, pushing the fabric down, away from her – he maps the shape of her. Firm teasing strokes up her thighs, the roundness of her hips, the sharp protruding bones of them, the soft skin between.

 

He removes himself from her mouth and nudges her face to the side with his own, pushing her to John. Gold and chocolate heads meet, while the tawny ducks. The Doctor starts to map the trail he set with his eyes and John's hands. He licks at her collar bone, bites at it, soothes it – moves on, hands coming up to remove the fabric keeping her from both of them.

 

There is an awkward moment of no one moving the way they should to facilitate the removal of the tank top – so the Doctor leaves it bunched under Rose's arms. He's too focused on needing to taste every inch of her skin, map out all the spots that give her even a spark of pleasure. The valley between her perky little breasts is nuzzled, a long swipe of his tongue making her giggle. Kissing around her breasts makes her squirm impatiently.

 

Little licks at her areola make gooseflesh rise across the skin that is visible, nipples turning into right little buds. The Doctor's lips mouth at one peak teasingly, fingers brushing over the other before pinching at it lightly. His actions garners their golden girl's attention. Her lips are swollen from so much kissing, pupils blown so wide now that only a sliver of amber is visible. Her breast rises and falls with little rapid movements under the Doctor's mouth and hand. She murmurs his name breathlessly – it's wonderful.

 

When he switches his mouth to her neglected breast, John does something that gets Rose to arch and gasp. Her hips jerk forward a moment later with a low moan and the Doctor is positive John's hand has delved under her sleep pants and found her center. Curious, he pulls away to investigate.

 

He's right, one of John's hands is buried between Rose's legs – he can see the movement behind the fabric. His mind's eye supplies the image – long fingers parting pink lips crowned with dark curls, one digit buried between moving with purpose, short thrusts into slickness. The Doctor is so engrossed with his little illicit day dream that he jerks when he feels Rose's hands curl into the towel riding low on his hips. She gives a tug and the towel gives, tossed uselessly onto the floor. He should be uncomfortable being the only truly naked one in the room, but the Doctor just knees in front of her, lets her look at him.

 

Shes reaching for him, little fingers gripping at his shoulders, trailing down his arms, making him shiver. Light swishes of her palms over his chest and stomach – he giggle, when she brushes over his own nipples. Sighs in surprise when tweaking them feels pleasant. Her hands on his hips draw him closer, close enough to feel the warmth she radiates, and Rose's eyes and hands duck toward his bits. As cocks go, the Doctor isn't unhappy with this one. He was average of length, not too wide, but a bit thinner at the base than he was the head. None of that matters when her hot little hand wraps itself around it though.

 

Her grip is tentative with the first few strokes over his flesh before she experiments with how to hold him. He gives little in the way of direction, letting her get comfortable with him instead. He wasn't silent however, his breathing picks up, he lets loose sounds to encourage her. The Doctor is figuring out what he just like Rose is.

 

John isn't keen on being forgotten as Rose explores, however. His free hand, the one not teasing and driving Rose to distraction, draws his counter part nearer. Grasps his hand and brings it to his own length, rutting against the Doctor just once with a little grunt. A smirk and a couple seconds wrestling with the closures of the pin stripped trousers see's John's cock in the Doctor's hand. _This_ he can do, teasing John, giving him some relief with barely any thought to it.

 

He squeezes at John, settles his hand into the grip he remembers enjoying with short strokes that always kept him on edge and wanting more. The hiss of pleasure against Roses' skin tells the Doctor that it hasn't changed. Soon enough the three of them are pressed together as close as they can be while hands and arms are in the way. It's an odd configuration truth be told to an onlooker – but it's working for them.

 

John is not yet on the bed, instead standing with his trousers and pants around his thighs, the Doctors arms wound around Rose, hands attached to John's bits. Rose is between them, John's arms both holding her still and moving to illicit sounds of her enjoyment from her. The Doctor is barely a hands length from Rose, one hand wrapped around his cock, the other on the back of his neck, her mouth mapping trails over his neck and shoulders. It's too much contact and not enough for any of them.

 

“Need one of you inside of me. Right now.” Rose breathes, startling the other two and all their motion stills for a moment, slowing to soft heated caresses.

 

“How should we do this then?” John asks her, leaning to give her cheek a kiss and rest his chin on her shoulder.

 

“Dunno, don't care.” She replies, eyes lidded as she leans forward to catch the Doctor's bottom lip between her teeth gently. For a split second the Doctor wonders if she could take them both, opens his mouth and pulls from her to suggest it but says nothing. John, however, seems to be on his wave length.

 

“We could have a go at both having you,” he murmurs, umber eyes flicking to the Doctors as he drags his mouth to her ear. “Could you do it, you think? Have us both, filling you, stretching you until you think it'll never happen. Working together inside of you until you scream?”

 

Rose sucks in a breath, cheeks, neck and beyond turning a fetching shade of red. Her eyes look at John and then the Doctor. She's thinking, they can both see it, teetering on the edge of saying yes. The Doctor leans forward, drags his nose gently over her thrumming pulse, adding to what John started.

 

“You know we'd never hurt you. Would have to work you open a little first with our fingers. Keep you distracted with our tongues. But, oh Rose, it would be worth it, my love – to have you like that.” He plants an open mouth kiss just below her ear, snaking his tongue out to tease her ear lobe.

 

Their pink and yellow human pounces on him then, sending the Doctor sprawling back onto the bed, her arse in the air in front of John. Her kiss is harsh, he responds in kind, spying John with his hand wrapped around his cock, stroking himself, watching them. When she pulls away, breathing heavily; there is a wicked smirk on her face.

 

“You two think you're so impressive! Prove it, then.”

 

They answer with grins, John shucking his trainers, trousers and pants and clamoring on the bed behind Rose. John urges her forward, placing open mouth kisses along her spine as they move. They stop when Rose is kneeling over the Doctor's head, John smirking down at him over her shoulder.

 

“Up for a little distracting?” He quips, straightening Rose, whose face as turned tomato red.

 

“You've no idea,” the Doctor replies, hands coming up to grasp her thighs, urging them apart and then pulling her down aways. “All right there, Rose?”

 

“Yes,” She breathes, with a smile, “go on then.”

 

The Time Lord needs no other urging, keeping one hand grasping her, the other petting the outside of her other supple thigh. He's been able to smell her need this entire time, but now that she's so near, he's drunk on it. His lips blaze a trail up one thigh and down the other, circumventing her core all together; his tongue sneaking out every so often. He moves back up, fingers drifting to the same destination. He gives her a bit of a kiss, fingers stroking her outer lips before parting them, his next kiss landing on her clit. She jumps a little when it happens, his other hand being the only thing that really keeps her in place.

 

He does it again, while wetting his fingers with her arousal, playing them against her entrance. The third time, he parts his lips and sucks ever so gently at it. The accompanying groan lights his blood on fire.

 

John not to be left out, or shown up, stations himself just behind Rose, swiping her hair over one shoulder before his mouth descends. He peppers kisses on the back of her throat, his hands stroking her sides and back. It makes her arch forward, subtly grinding her core onto the Doctor's fingers and mouth. His hands eventually migrate to her breasts, plucking at their peaks, massaging them – keeping her mind squarely on the feelings he gives her.

 

Two of the Doctor's fingers seat themselves in her channel, tongue working at her swollen clit. The bedroom is awash in Rose's moans; her filthy urgings to her lovers. Hearing such from her makes both Time Lords ache to be buried inside her. It makes their touches linger longer, without the previous care for gentleness. His fingers move in and out of her a might roughly – but she doesn't correct him, she even shifts her hips against his grip to ride the movements. The Doctor sucks and licks at her, quick hard little strokes with the tip of his tongue – she likes those better than those with the flat of it.

 

John is leaving a series of red marks on her left shoulder, most small, but one large enough to garner notice at the base of her throat. The Doctor notes that John's left the right side bare. They go on like this, taking her higher without intent to let her drop over the edge of oblivion for a time. Only when she's writhing against them does John bring his fingers to join his counter part's. For a second Rose is tense, her cunt squeezing at the already buried digits, denying entrance to those that ease the opening of her.

 

In that second the Doctor decides to get a bit adventurous. Ever so carefully, he catches her clit between his teeth and rolls it from side to side. She screams, he smirks between her legs – John slips a finger into her and she squirms. The dance begins again until she's whimpering and threatening retribution. Another distraction – hard suction, more cries being wrenched from her throat, another finger slipped into her body.

 

The Doctor's set a rhythm inside her, quick, short thrusts that their hips mimic unconsciously. They ache for relief – neither has ever been so hard before this. Their fingers spread inside her, working her, occasionally catching the spot that makes Rose buck and cry out for more. Their fingers work at her with fingers teeth and lips until her walls start to flex around their fingers.

 

“Doctor...” Her whine is plaintive, and she is leaning against John's chest, breath coming in heaves. “I – I need.”

 

The two men oblige her, working their fingers in tandem, the Doctor's tongue flicking against her clit insistently. The Doctor crooks his fingers, rubs against the spot that makes her yell and keeps going until Rose goes taut, her mouth open in a wordless cry. Their movements slow bit by bit as she comes down off her high, the Doctor removing his mouth from her all together, John petting her gently. Removing their fingers, they both promptly stick them in their mouths, making Rose laugh breathlessly.

 

“Do you...do you think it'll work?” Rose asks, eyes still bright with lust.

 

“Do we think that what will work?” John teases, pressing up against her bottom.

 

“Will you both fit.” Her voice is soft, cheeks pink.

 

“Shall we find out?” The Doctor leers up at her and John from between her thighs. After a moment she nods and both men smile rakishly at her.

 

“Shift, love -”

 

“Straddle him, we'll take it slow.”

 

Together the Time Lords get Rose where they want her, astride the Doctor's legs. She teasingly grinds against him, all warm and slick, getting him to groan and grab her hips. “No love, if you keep doing that – this is going to be over much much too soon.”

 

She smiles wickedly again, shifting within his hold against his cock anyway and this time it's the Doctor who yells. He lifts her up, lets her guide him to where he needs to be and the Doctor lets her sink down onto him. She is warm, snug and _god_ he wants to buck up into her until he comes. Instead, he grits his teeth and neither move for a long moment.

 

It's John who urges her to move, hands guiding her rise and fall. She feels so good, pleasure is crawling through the Doctor with a frankly shocking pace, his eyes are closed to slits and groans flow from his mouth like water. This is going to be over very fast.

 

“John – hurry up, new body, new nerves.”

 

“Feels too good?” Rose cuts in breathlessly as John moves her so shes on all fores over the Doctor. He takes a moment to look at them, the Doctor buried inside of Rose Tyler, her lips and his cock glistening with evidence of her arousal and previous orgasm before nudging gently at her with his head. He's built much the same as the Doctor currently is – if a touch longer, it's going to be a tight fit even with the work they did to prepare her.

 

He pushes, and she tenses, he pets at her back, the Doctor raises a hand and strokes her with his thumb. It takes a good bit, but soon enough John's got himself buried inside her. By that time she's trembling, gasping and they're all too keyed up to hold still for very long. John looks at the Doctor, the Doctor nods and they both pull back a bit.

 

Rose squeaks, hands fisting ineffectually at the bedding. Shes so **full** , she feels like they might rip her in half but it feels good. The drag of them against her channel as they withdraw, the short forceful reentry. Her eyes slide shut, and she can't see both men are hanging by a thread. It's so tight inside her now that it's almost painful, they want to _pound_ to make her _scream_ their names until she loses her voice.

 

They can't bear to hurt her though – so they keep up the slow out and quick shallow in. The Doctor's still got his thumb on her clit, and he presses down on it, strokes it while keeping pressure on it. One of John's hands come up to toy with her nipple and their rhythm settles, the strokes get longer.

 

“More.” Rose whispers, eyes opening to look at the Doctor's green orbs. He nods sharply, as does John though she can't see him. They pull out further, rock in until they're seated and do it all over again. Murmurs fall from their mouths, nonsensical words in alien languages. Some are guttural, and Rose knows they're filthy. Some are lyrical and she fancies those are tender.

 

Either way, she is soaring, going as far as to begin to move with them. She smiles a bit when she hears twin grunts of surprise. For all three of them assuming this wasn't going to last – she is fast careening to a second orgasm and the Doctors are seemingly miles from theirs.

 

“Faster.”

 

“Are you -”

 

“ _Please_ ”

 

Their groans of acquiescence are followed by quicker plunges and withdrawals. Four hands are grasping at her body, insistently seeking out places that make her writhe on top of them. Rose revels in it, loves them for it – wants more of it. She feels their willpower eroding, while hers is long gone.

 

The three of them surge with each other, racing on the path to completion. Bites, fierce kisses and caresses are traded. Fingers thread together, sobs of pleasure swallowed at awkward angles over shoulders by a kiss. They press as far into each other as they can just to pull out and surge back again as if they never want to leave.

 

Then Rose is falling, falling fast, falling hard and screaming for them as she breaks apart around them. The Doctors have no choice but to follow, the squeeze is too much, the flood of warmth, her keening cry. John yells, Eleven bites at her neck and they collapse. The Doctor doesn't care, his ribs can hold the extra weight while they come down and he's too boneless to protest.

 

Some time later, after they've withdrawn and she's tucked between them, half asleep they speak again.

 

“How long are you going to say with us?”

 

“Forever,” is her whispered, earnest and much anticipated reply.

 

Donna has to call the Tardis four times before they go and pick her up. They've never been great with distractions like this.

 

~*Fin


End file.
